


he needs time

by simplymellifluous



Category: supermega
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Break Up, M/M, Post-Break Up, Ryatt - Freeform, Sexual Reference, Top!Ryan, bottom!Matt, deep conversation, more tags incoming, we need more ryatt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 20:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15518067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplymellifluous/pseuds/simplymellifluous
Summary: Matt’s eyelashes flutter. The room and the world outside stills. He can feel their heartbeats sync up from across the room. Ryan doesn’t want to make this a shouting match like every breakup he’s ever been in, because this isn’t just any other relationship. Matt doesn’t want to yell because if he does, he’s going to regret every word later.





	he needs time

**Author's Note:**

> as the tags imply, please feel free to correct me if i portray a breakup like a noob. i haven't been through a breakup so it's a little tough for me to connect with the characters i'm portraying, but i prefer a challenge. enjoy, or, for the story purposes, die a little more, through this story.

Ryan knew these words would have to come out at some point, during some time, yet it still hurt even if Ryan had supposedly “mentally prepared himself” for them.  They were strong, tough words. Words that Ryan hated because he could taste the warmth fizzling out of it, the passion dying. Words that left a sour taste in his mouth. Words that made hard to lie in the same bed as him, just agonizingly staring at the clock and wondering when his time was up with the boy that he had fallen in too deep with. 

_ 11:45. _

P.M., of course, because Matt doesn’t like to have sex with Ryan during the day in the office. At least, not anymore. Ryan wouldn’t threaten to voice his thoughts on that, he already has and regrets the following argument to the present day, but he sometimes looks back on those days fondly, them sharing knowing glances after the two came back from their “bathroom breaks.” Matt comes out of the shower with the towel tied around his thin hips with a twitchy countenance which Ryan brushes off quickly. It’s been a while since Ryan topped and Matt previously has described such as an “experience” that needs a “recovery period”, which does wonders for Ryan’s self-esteem the more he thinks about it.

“Hey princess.” Ryan teases in a sleepy voice, admiring his boyfriend introspectively as he gradually started to fatigue through the afterglow. Matt’s arms and legs were slowly looking more muscular which always stirred a real, genuine grin onto Ryan’s face, and his eyes looked gloriously aquamarine in the simple moonlight shining through one of Ryan’s windows. Matt returns the comment with a sigh, a fleeting look deep into Ryan’s eyes, and an anxious frown towards the door. He locks his arm defensively around his torso and scratches his arm.

 

“Ryan, can we...can we talk?”

 

Ryan’s face immediately twists. His mind flutters into a scintilla of emotions, anxiety and joy, anger and nausea, a reaction he’s been attuned to since middle school. He sputters out a quick, “sure!” and falls out of the bed, watching Matt walk carefully into the kitchen. Ryan can see it in his walking, he’s calculating. Analyzing, scrutinizing. He wants every word in the following talk perfect, every word the way he needs Ryan to hear them. This type of attitude wasn’t a regular, impassive one. Matt wasn’t walking like a mad scientist because he needed to spill the tea on some half-assed Disney star.

Ryan slips his boxer-briefs on so as to not look like a buffoon during the upcoming conversation and tunes out all the bells in his head. Whether warning or wedding bells, he doesn’t know, but he can’t really back out of it now. Especially considering Matt is his best friend. And roommate. And work partner. And...whatever he wanted to dub the relationship he was in right now. He sits on the couch in front of Matt and approaches the subject casually.

“So. What’s u--”

“I don’t think this is gonna work out.” Matt squeaks, and Ryan can see both the guilt and relief oozing through his shoulders. And just in eight words, Ryan’s entire world cracks open. He forces an inhale and exhale through his lungs, but it doesn’t seem to adjust the solid lump in his throat. 

“Uhm...okay...why do you feel this w--”

“Because. What are we, Ryan? Who are you?” Matt starts pacing. Matt always paces when he’s panicked, out of his comfort realm and into a dark and monotonous cave of sorts. Ryan has been told multiple times by Matt that he’s generally hard to read in deep conversations.

Ryan stretches out his fingers and looks to the side, physically searching for an out, an escape hatch, a pull of the lever to make this conversation poof out of existence. He unfortunately can’t find it on the kitchen counters, in the crevices of the couch, outside the window, and certainly not in the dilated pupils Matt is staring down at him with. Ryan wants to start a fight, he wants to kick and fuss and scream, but he wants comfort too. He wants Matt to lay him down and hold his hand and let him take custody in his collarbone to foster the sobs that shrink up in his chest.

Somehow he can’t have both. Words fizzle off of his tongue, trying to cover up the fact that Ryan has now been deduced to a pulp in just eight words. “Matt, we are...well, I thought we were together. Like...like we were happy…” He stops in his tracks because he can feel the choppy, emotional voice crackling through, screaming a million “Why”’s.

Matt doesn’t stop walking. He’s probably on his fourteenth lap when he stops and stares at Ryan with a yearning that brims with tears. “We were b-but.” Matt clears his voice and straightens out his spine to a length Ryan knows hurts him. “Ryan, we work far better as work then---I mean, far better as friends and working as partners, but not as partners, you know?” 

Matt misjudges the blaze in the man’s eyes as a need for consolation and he presses on for a response from the man across him. He didn’t need a sugar-coated one, he just needed to know what he was thinking. “It...what would our parents think, think of us being---together? How would you explain that to your mom, your dad…”

“Wouldn’t be much fucking different then them telling me they don’t love each other and that they’re gonna break apart the family. Oh, hey _mom_! Things were going _great_ with _Matt_ , I developed actual emotions for him and let him sink his stupid fucking _eyes_ deep into my heart, but then he got way too fucking obsessed with what other people thought about who  _ we  _ were and decided to tell me when he could’ve just fucking…” The poisonous words shoot off his tongue sardonically and somehow he forgets the meaning of each and every one the second he says them.

Matt’s eyelashes flutter. The room and the world outside stills. He can feel their heartbeats sync up from across the room. Ryan doesn’t want to make this a shouting match like every breakup he’s ever been in, because this isn’t just any other relationship. Matt doesn’t want to yell because if he does, he’s going to regret every word later. Matt clears his throat, gives Ryan the longest look, and mumbles, “I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m...I’m gonna go to a friends’ house for the night.” Matt leaves the room to dress himself, leaving Ryan with his mouth agape and his mind reeling.

He wants to scream out that he doesn’t mean it, not a single word of that uncalled for speech. He wants to sprint down the hall after him and kiss Matt with raindrops sliding off each other like the Notebook. He wants to hold him. But he doesn’t. He watches Matt slither out of the front door with his tail in between his legs and does laps around what he could’ve done. After a while of sitting in silence, he finds solace (or the closest thing to it) with his thoughts, his dog, some stupid fucking television, and cheap vodka he found somewhere in the pantry.

Ryan clicks on some shitty Netflix show and stares at the ceiling until the first season is over, just stuck in his head.

The first thing he notices about the whole speech was that this was rehearsed at some point in time, evident by the way he mixed up words in his sentences. Matt practiced this in the mirror, the slight stutters, the whole little “what are we” philosophical shit, probably even his responses to Ryan’s words. It makes Ryan burn a little more knowing that at some point Ryan could’ve caught him saying “this won’t work out” in the bathroom and they could’ve worked out their issues.

The second thing he notices is that at no point in time does Matt say what he feels. He never says, ‘I feel like we are going through a rough patch’ or never ‘I am not happy.’ Every time he asked Matt why he felt this way, he diverted the subject to some topic much more open ended. He wonders if that was a smarter or easier way to handle the conversation, but Ryan settles on the fact that Matt is a generally not-so-emotional person. It was probably too over-analytical to think that he would have an underlying plan on how his emotions were dealt with in his speech. Or maybe he had a lot of time on his hands.

It’s finally when the alcohol starts sinking in that he asks the “real questions”. When did Matt start feeling this way? Did someone find out about them? What did he mean ‘working as partners’? Who is this friend that Matt is staying with? Is Matt cheating on him? Would Matt do that? Was Ryan entirely wrong about the speech? Or was Matt just lacking a practiced response to his outburst?

Ryan doesn’t fall asleep until the clock strikes 5 A.M., lulled to sleep with Matt stuck in his mind. It wasn’t a slideshow of Matt doing cute things, or his favorite picture of Matt, or the funniest joke he ever said. In fact, it was not even close to that. Ryan stared up at the ceiling and teared up, knowing that the Matt with the sad eyes and the stupid posture and the straight laced arms as the only Matt that Ryan would probably ever see or talk to again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! do you like tumblr? do you have tumblr? do you want to follow another tumblr that associates heavily with the game grumps, oneyplays, and supermega? boy, do i have the tumblr for you!
> 
> my tumblr is simply-mellifluous. follow, like, reblog, favorite, do what ya please.
> 
> sad about the ending? well don't worry my dear chum, the story doesn't end just yet. it's just getting started! i'm planning to have 3 parts (maybe 4 if people like the third one enough).
> 
> thanks for reading and have a lovely day!


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